


I said I was sorry, didn’t I?

by jotunemo



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Abusive Thor, Abusive family dynamics, Canon Divergence - Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Gen, I am Yours by Black Feather AU, Loki Has Issues, Odin's A+ Parenting (Marvel), Other, Thor POV, Thor too, Violence, When is it ever, a ton, are we even surprised, asgard is a toxic place, he needs millions, it's far from pretty, loki needs a freaking hug, not from thor though, not in this one, thor's perspective is so skewed, trigger warning abuser pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 10:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotunemo/pseuds/jotunemo
Summary: Loki has hidden the abuse he endured beneath his glamours his entire life until, one day, his seidr fails him.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	I said I was sorry, didn’t I?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [black_feather_fiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_feather_fiction/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I Am Yours, And All – Or The Arduous Emancipation Of One Loki Odinson](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896788) by [black_feather_fiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_feather_fiction/pseuds/black_feather_fiction). 



> This is something I hoped would happen at some point in chapter 43 while reading this story. Which is not to say that their story lacks anything. They're a talented writer and it's an insightful masterpiece into how an abusive household sustains itself and affects everyone coming into contact with its members. It absolutely doesn't need a fix-it or anything. I just wanted this (I always want more Thor, so shoot me) and, since there has been very little Thor POV in their story for a while, I went for it and it morphed into this. I discovered that there's a veeeery good reason for the lack of Thor POV in the orignal fic as you'll see if you decide to read this because he's locked inside a very toxic victim-shaming frame of mind at the moment and has been for a thousand years. It's all sorts of not pretty and Thor's reasoning is so utterly flawed, it's downright infuriating. I can't believe this came out of my brain. Seriously *sighs* 
> 
> That said, have fun with it. I'm not sure it could be read independently though. A lot of it probably won't make sense.

Something was not right, with Loki.

Thor knew this, he just couldn’t point his finger on what exactly it was that irked him ever since his wayward brother deigned to return to his home, his king, his people, after hiding from Thor in New York and pitting the thundergod’s former comrades-in-arms against him for reasons hidden deep within Loki’s scheming mind. Whatever he’d told Thor about why he did it, Thor had long discovered all of his brother’s words to be lies. He no longer paid them any mind. It was easier that way and certainly safer for the remaining Asgardians, who did not deserve to be struck by a stray bolt of lightning in the worst case or robbed of what little electricity reached their desolate location in the best case just because the god of thunder, king of Asgard, son of Odin Allfather, still hadn’t learned to keep tabs on his frenzied little brother and then got furious with himself over his failure to do so. They surely expected him to, he could _see_ it in their eyes when they stole suspicious glances in his direction, wondering in silence why the prince was still residing in Thor’s humble abode despite his past transgressions against the crown.

Their distrust hung thick in the air, like wafts of mist swirling around him, following him wherever he went, particularly since Captain Rogers had followed Loki here. And whatever his former teammate had said, that the Avengers would prefer he stayed because they wanted a liaison in New Asgard (did everyone think him stupid, was that what Loki had told them, ridiculing his intellect as usual), Thor did not believe him either. Steve Rogers had been born and raised to protect and if he was here now, it was for the sole purpose of protecting the Avengers from whatever threat Loki had conceived in his lies. And the poor fellow would have to realize soon enough that Asgard’s hospitality was not bestowed upon those who treated the king with distrust and barely veiled contempt and that involving oneself with the god of mischief could only result in discordances between the parties involved.

They had been there many times before. Vanaheim, Jotunheim, Midgard.

Different realms, same outcome.

Oh, Loki.

 _He is a force of nature_ , _my love_ , mother would say and thinking of her still felled Thor like a tree sometimes. _He thrives off chaos_. _His magic thrives off chaos_. _He cannot help it_. _It’s engrained in his very essence_.

His very essence indeed.

Thor had suspected Loki would cause trouble again, of course he had. Loki always did. He had suspected he would be up to something, so he wasn’t even that surprised when he’d returned from Bodo after his meeting with the Norwegian delegates and saw the chaos of papers strewn all over the couch table. Of course Loki would spy upon him the moment he left New Asgard. Of course he’d seek out valuable information that could help him undermine Thor’s rule to reclaim the throne that had never been truly his.

Oh, Loki.

Would he ever change? Would he ever stop scheming? Ever stop plotting? Ever stop conceiving intricate plans in that brilliant little head of his that backfired on everyone, most notably himself? Would he ever stop sabotaging the relationship they could have without all the lies, the secrecy, the jealousy, the resentment?

Surely, no one could truly blame Thor for losing his temper sometimes. He did feel guilty afterwards, sometimes overwhelmingly so, eons worth of seeing Loki writhing on the floor, battered by his own brother’s fists, eons worth of shame congealing into a burning, throbbing sour lump of guilt in the deepest pit of his stomach.

 _Do not fret_ , _son_ , father would say. _If he ever hopes to prevail in battle_ , _he will have to learn to defend himself_.

Even Thor knew now that Odin Borson hadn’t been infallible but this he never questioned because Loki _was_ powerful. He might not be Aesir by blood but he could be a fierce warrior if he chose to be, as lethal wielding his blades as he was wielding sorcery. But except for that brief period of time between the revelation of his dark lineage and the Avengers’ thwarting his brothers misguided attempt at world domination in New York, Loki had never fought back.

If Thor thought about it, this is exactly what had always bothered him, what is bothering him now.

Loki didn’t _defend_ himself. He merely accepted ... most things, in fact. There was a spark in his eyes but he’d smother it and bury it deep within himself with all the other smothered sparks until they erupted like a volcano, flames of acid spewing from his thin lips, like they did the other day.

“Ever the hypocrite, aren’t you, brother?” Loki had snarled, his eyes glazing over with that particular hunger the meaning of which still eluded Thor. It was almost like a ... yearning, a plea. “You want to punish the Valkyrie for an unfortunate accident even though you have done me far greater harm just this past week? Do you fancy yourself exempt from your own laws, _King Thor_?” He’d spit that one like venom. “Do you fancy yourself a worthy successor because you emulate the Allfather in striking me down on purpose several times? But, then again, I suppose, as a Frost Giant, New Asgard’s laws do not apply to me, do they, _brother_?” That snarl again. “I suppose you don’t consider me anything more than a runt that you can simply beat for disobedience or shove away in anger because I get in your way of—”

His fist had struck him down then, his rage coiling in his belly like a venomous snake.

How dare Loki speak of himself that way? How dare he insult himself and call himself such vile names? Loki could do so much better than cowering before him and just accepting ... what exactly Thor couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he sometimes wished that Loki would fight back. That he would scream in rage and shove him away and that they’d beat each other bloody like warriors only to sink to the floor in a heap of exhaustion, too spent to keep up any pretenses or do anything else besides speaking their minds freely.

But Loki wasn’t like that. Loki would go right back to killing those sparks until it was time for the volcano to erupt again. It was a never-ending cycle and Thor was quite fed up with it, to put it mildly. He could feel the thunder in his veins, could see the black clouds approaching swiftly on the horizon, could hear the rumble of his wrath echoing across the grassland. He was fed up with not being able to crawl inside his brother’s disturbed head with a torch to illuminate the maze that was his mind. He was fed up with Loki’s cowardice, his slyness, his tireless attempts to anger Thor on purpose.

And on top of that, something was _not_ right.

Loki was hiding something else, Thor was sure of it, something far more important than his usual tricks, and it drove him mad that his brother kept him guessing, that he wouldn’t let him in. Whatever it was, it consumed Loki. He had seemed so exhausted lately, so weakened, his movements slow and graceless. He was barely eating and what little nourishment he forced down his throat often ended up in the toilet bowl.

Thor suspected he was working on a spell because what else could possibly exhaust him so? The question was what spell and to what purpose. With Loki, he had to expect the worst, didn’t he? He didn’t _want_ to, the Norns be his witness, but he _had_ to. He couldn’t endanger what little was left of their people.

And then he found out when he caught Loki in a moment of distractedness and discovered his brother’s plans to put up magical wards for New Asgard without discussing it with him first, leaving him in the dark as always, disregarding his own limits. “Are you telling me that you went behind my back _again_?” Thor blustered, fear creeping into his voice when he remembered all the times Loki overexerted himself wielding his seidr. “That you were going to do powerful magic _again_ that would endanger you _again_?”

“I was merely trying to,” began Loki meekly, his voice threadbare.

“We can’t go on like this!” Thor roared and before he knew what he had done, Loki was lying face-down on the floor, limbs sprawled awkwardly, his breathing ragged and heavy.

And just like that, it had happened _again_. He hadn’t _meant_ to, by Odin’s ravens, why couldn’t Loki just understand that he wanted what was best for him? Why did he always have to make everything _so_ difficult?

Loki didn’t move and Thor’s stomach took a dive. “Brother? Brother? Can you hear me? Say something, please!”

Panic creeping down his spine with icy claws, he rolled Loki onto his back, examining his bleeding skull with trembling hands. Loki was shaking, his gaze unfocused.

“Sorry,” Thor murmured. “I didn’t meant to, I’m sorry.”

Loki looked up at Thor but his clouded eyes didn’t seem to find his. “I was just so scared, I’m sorry,” Thor murmured, his hands on Loki’s cheeks, his forehead, his hair, his arms, everywhere. “You scare me, brother.”

Loki still gave no reaction.

“Can you talk to me?” begged Thor, his chest constricting with fear, guilt, shame. “Or just nod if you understand me?”

It took a few beats but eventually, Loki did nod, a hardly noticeable gesture that flooded Thor with relief all the same.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” said he, his voice sounding far too cheerful even to his own ears. He helped his brother up and guided him into the bathroom, steadying him carefully because Loki was swaying. That right there was the evidence that Loki was oblivious to how his experiments with powerful seidr affected Thor. His brother was all he had left. He had to bury his mother, had lost his father, had already mourned his brother twice, or even thrice if one counted the numbing grief mixed with terror he’d experienced after his lightning had struck him. He just ... couldn’t lose him again. He just couldn’t. He was sure it would end his existence and did Loki ever think about _that_? Thor breathed out, trying to get a hold of himself. “I want you to promise me that you just don’t do something like that again without telling me first, okay? I get scared for you. I’ve lost you too many times. I just get so scared.”

He placed his brother on a stool, took a washcloth and let water run over it before balling it in his fist then to squeeze out any excess liquid.

“What if those wards are too much for you?” asked Thor. “Have you even thought about that? You are all that I have left, Loki.” He bent down to him, dabbing at the side of Loki’s head. The cloth came back red and Thor rinsed it out in the sink. He bent down again and Loki tensed, spasmed even, and before Thor could jump to safety, his brother began to retch and then he puked, soiling Thor’s tunic.

“Seriously?” Thor said, his anger stirring again. When Loki sensed his rage build up again, panic washed over his face and he clamped his mouth shut with his hands, pressing it shut so tightly that his knuckles stood out in a ghastly white. It was no use. He vomited again, spraying him all over.

“Oh, Loki,” Thor sighed as his brother slumped into himself. “What are we going to do about—”

A green flicker of magic washed over him then and Thor shrank back, aghast. Suddenly, his brother’s face was ... _not_ his brother’s face anymore. His skin was ghostly pale, sweat glistering on his forehead. His cheeks were sunken, giving him a haunted look, almost as though someone had scraped out all his flesh with a spoon. His eyes were swollen and bruised, the skin around them colored in a nasty deep purple. His nose and jaw were deformed, his usually so sharp, delicate jawline suddenly oddly disfigured. Blood was pooling out of his nose, his lips, his head, _his norndamned ear_!

 _What kind of new sorcery was this_?

“What ...” Thor gaped, a wave of emotions rolling over him, drowning him, crushing the air out of his lungs. Why would Loki ... Why would he ... Words fled him. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty? I _said_ I was sorry, didn’t I? Drop that glamour at once!”

“I’m s-sorry,” Loki slurred, eyelids drooping. “I-I c-can’t ...”

Thor’s stomach turned to ice then. “W-why not?”

“It’s n-not ... a glamour.”

For a moment, the meaning of his brother’s words remained lost on the god of thunder. “You mean ...” No, this couldn’t be. Right? Was he as foolish a dunce as Loki loved to claim he was? “You mean ... This is ...” He gulped. “Real? Who ...” _did this to you_? was on the tip of his tongue, the words like a dog tugging at its leash, begging to be set free, because that was how Frigga had raised him, to look after Loki, to protect him, to punish those who harmed him.

 _And you’re doing a marvelous job with that_ , Loki had ridiculed him once, that condescending grin plastered onto his smug face.

A marvelous job indeed.

“I’m sorry,” Loki whispered, his voice barely more substantial than a breath. “You weren’t s-supposed to s-see.”

 _I wasn’t supposed to see what_? Thor wanted to holler, his vision blinded by his thrice-accursed anger, this time directed solely at himself. He felt sick now that his brother’s façade had finally melted off his calculated face and the ugly truth was staring at Thor with a horrid grimace. “Did I ...” He couldn’t finish. Yes, he felt sick. Sick and so utterly rotten.

“I had it coming,” Loki conceded, his voice shuddering, tears spilling out of his bruised eyes. “I-I’m a ...”

“Shshsh,” said Thor, sweeping him into his arms. Loki gave a low wince of pain and Thor flinched a little because his brother had never felt so fragile, so quite literally broken in his embrace. Did he really ... Was this _his_ doing? That couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be true! Loki had always bounced back. Thor had never glimpsed as much as a scratch on him before. And yet ...

The blood was real. His injuries were no illusion. Thor could smell the blood, taste it almost.

Could his brother really have hidden ... all this? For such a long time? Was that why he’d been so utterly exhausted?

“I’ll try to be b-better,” whimpered Loki. “For you.”

“Oh, brother,” Thor murmured, brushing a kiss on the top of Loki’s head. “I will fetch the healer for you. Just stay put, alright? I will be back in a minute.”

*

When he returned with Fulla, Loki was an unconscious heap of shattered bones on the floor tiles and he wasn’t breathing. Shock crippled Thor right down to the very core of his being. “Is he ...” _dead_? _Again_? _Because of me_?

It had always been him, hadn’t it? He’d lured Loki to Jotunheim all those years ago. He’d dragged him to Svartalfheim. He’d struck him down with his powers. He’d hurt him ... like ... like _this_.

 _Several times_ , Loki had said. _On purpose_.

 _Oh_ , _brother_.

 _I never ever meant to_. _You must believe me_. _You just make it so hard sometimes_.

Thor had a vision then, a long lost memory, of Loki tucked into his bed in the royal chambers, Frigga bent over him, dabbing his feverish forehead with a wet cloth. He’d been so small then, so fragile, so innocent.

“We have a pulse,” announced Fulla and Thor swore on his mother’s soul resting in Valhalla that he would never lay as much as a finger on his little brother ever again for as long as he lived.

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many variations of this quote that boils down to this: Promises are worse than lies because you don't just make others believe but make them hope for something you're not even sure you can give. 
> 
> Let's all pray for Loki's physical and mental well-being, shall we?
> 
> Go read and support the fic that inspired this if you aren't already devouring every word!!


End file.
